We have this impulse to put our hands all over new surfboards, and hold them at odd angles, and say Hmmm, and Ahhhh, and to look contemplative as though we see meaning in the curves. It’s an absurd little dance and we do not resist it.

Last week that impulse drove us to visit Lost Surfboards at their San Clemente warehouse, but to no avail — locked door, empty office. Drat. Yesterday we tried again, and this time the boys were there and were quite good-natured about letting us walk around their workspace, touching their stuff and spouting ignorant dreck about surfboards. Steve, Trevor, Johnny and Andy hung out and answered questions about the newest Lost models and told us funny, unprintable stories about a Hawaiian surf legend.